


Mabel and Ford Drips and Drabs

by orphan_account



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Basically just cute stuff I need to dump somewhere, Christmas bonding, Fluff, Gen, Mabel and Ford bonding, Tickles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-01 03:26:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8605453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A cute and silly collection of Mabel and Ford bonding and having fun together.





	1. Chase

**Author's Note:**

> Hahaha, this is a pretty bad, pretty random little dribble I just had to write because six fingers are good for tickles.

Mabel was running, running, running. She had to get away, she had to escape, she had to be safe. She looked behind her, shrieked, and sped up. Her chest hurt.

“You can’t escape!” her pursuer cried, hot on her heels, his hands extended in front of him, only a few inches away.

“Grunkle Ford,” she gasped, turning sharply around a tree and heading back the other way, “please, don’t--!” Too late. He grabbed her, drew her close to him, and began to tickle her mercilessly. “Ha-ha--No, no, stoppppp--Aaahhhh!” she giggled, squirming in his grip until she could get a hand up against his ribs. Then she retaliated viciously and when he let go, doubling over, she wriggled away and kept running. “Try and catch me!” she laughed.

“Oh, I plan on it,” he replied, and the chase continued.


	2. Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mabel asks Ford to help her make Christmas cookies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's also on my tumblr! https://artsofcc.tumblr.com/

“Grunkle Ford, come help me bake!” the small voice called.

“Alright,” he conceded, coming into the kitchen. “What are we making?”

“Christmas cookies!” Mabel cried. “I need some help rolling out the dough, it’s really stiff.”

“Yes, Chef,” Ford laughed. He retrieved a rolling pin from a cupboard--when had the Shack had a rolling pin?--and rolled the refrigerated cookie dough out onto a flour-covered table. “Did you make this dough yourself?” he asked the girl, who was looking for cookie-cutters.

“Yeah,” she replied. “It was pretty easy.” She stood up with a large box of cookie-cutters in her arms. “I wanna run an arts-and-crafts-and-other-homemade-things store when I’m all grown up,” she said eagerly. “It’ll be called something like ‘Shooting Star’s Handcrafted Emporium’!”

“Heh, I am certain you’ll have a lot of business,” Ford said, pushing the rolling pin through the dough one last time. “Here, I think we’re ready to start cutting out the cookies.”

Mabel cheered and grabbed a Christmas tree shaped cutter. “I know you and Grunkle Stan are Jewish, but neither of you really practice, right?” she asked, pressing the metal into the dough.

“That’s true.” Ford nodded and picked up a cutter shaped like a Star of David with a grin. “How about you?”

“Ah, Dad still practices a bit but Mom isn't Jewish so we just kinda celebrate Christmas and Hanukkah on the same day.”

Ford nodded again with an affirmative noise and more small talk ensued while they cut the sugary dough into festive shapes. Then, Mabel announced, it was time to decorate. “We need lots of sprinkles. And...some of this. Oooh! Edible glitter! Gotta have this!”

She came tottering back with her arms full of bottles and boxes. “Think we have enough there?” joked Ford.

She looked up at him seriously. “No.” She dumped the sugary substances on the counter. “But we’ll have to work with what we’ve got.”

“Alright. How do we go about doing this?” he asked.

“Well, you pick a cookie you wanna decorate, then you put sprinkles or cinnamon hots or edible glitter or sugar on top of it. Like this.” She selected a five-pointed star and proceeded to lightly dust it with yellow sprinkles and golden edible glitter. “Hmm. Still needs something,” she mused, stepping back to eye it critically. “Oh, I know!” She grabbed a small white candy from a box and placed it in the center. “Perfect.” She beamed at Ford. “Your turn!”

The pair spent another hour in the kitchen meticulously embellishing each cookie before sliding the tray into the oven. “I can’t wait to see how they turn out,” Ford grinned.

Mabel flung her arms around Ford’s waist. “Thanks for decorating with me!”

He laughed and ruffled her hair. “My pleasure.”


	3. Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mabel and Ford encounter each other late at night.

Ford sat at the kitchen table, rereading Dipper’s notes in Journal 3. He was incredibly impressed with the boy’s skill and intelligence. That kid was going to go places.

The soft padding of little footsteps was heard coming down the stairs. Ford looked up at the clock: 1 in the morning, or just about. Who was up at this hour?

It was Mabel, he discovered when she rounded the corner, who was apparently looking for a midnight snack by the way she headed straight for the fridge. She retrieved the carton of milk and a glass, then finally turned to face the kitchen table. “Oh,” she said sleepily, “hi, Grunkle Ford.”

“Mabel, why are you up?” he asked, standing slightly.

She blinked slowly. “Thirsty.” She held up the carton.

He paused. It was entirely plausible. “Alright. Want me to pour that for you?”

The girl nodded. He took the glass and the carton and carefully poured the drink into the cup. “Thanks,” she said, and downed the entire thing. “Hm,” she added quietly, “needs more glitter.”

“Nope, no more for you, my dear,” Ford laughed. “You’re going straight to bed. Come on, up with you.”

She swayed gently. Her eyes were closing.

Ford rolled his eyes with an affectionate smile. “Come here,” he sighed, and lifted the girl into his arms.

As he climbed the stairs, he was panicking. The girl had dozed off almost immediately after he picked her up. How was he supposed to handle a sleeping child? What if he did something wrong? What if giving her milk was a bad idea? What if she  _ died? _

No, nothing was going to happen, he decided as he reached the attic and laid Mabel down in her bed, tucking the covers gently around her. A faint smile was evident on her face and her breathing was deep and regular. Everything was fine.

He didn’t realize how tired  _ he  _ was, though, and as he sat on the edge of her bed, watching her fondly, he found his own eyelids growing heavy.

He woke up eight hours later slumped on Mabel’s bed with a multitude of stickers covering his sweater.


End file.
